Doppelganger
by jade
Summary: AU. In the land of Annwn, all strange births are to be 'processed' by the ruling powers and now, a mother with twin boys must say good-bye to them, in the hopes that they will live. This is their story. Complete.
1. Part the First

In honor of my favorite older sister's birthday, I decided to write her something extra special! But then, unfortunately, as always, my imagination ran away with me and it transformed into a series. So, this is the first story in my series, which I'm calling my _Inferiorum _series. The first five stories in this series are relatively short but they're much needed for background for the first long story.

So, this is the first one, but there will be others! But this one has to be written first, because they're in chronological order and also because Teresa loves the twins and it's _her _birthday! Happy Birthday!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Note: Inferiorum translates to 'Inhabitants of the Underworld'. (I'm getting that definition straight from my Latin 1 textbook, so if I'm wrong, well…argue with my textbook!) It'll become a little more clear why the series is called that as we progress through the stories.

**-**

Doppelganger

Part the First

"Perhaps I know best why it is man alone who laughs; he alone suffers so deeply that he had to invent laughter."

-Friedrich Nietzsche

-

It had been fifty years since Annwn fell. The beautiful land of Annwn, which stretched from her large snowy mountains in the north, to the magnificent capitol in the south, had fallen to tyrants.

These tyrants were under a mysterious figure whose real name people dared not speak. Is it a devil that they follow? A demon? Some unspeakable monster? No one really knew, except those directly under this Dark Lord, and none of them were speaking. Do not bite the hand that feeds you.

At this time, fifty years ago, the peasants of Annwn were so terrified of the attacks that came out of nowhere. At this time, one might hear the dreadful cry that rang out just before another family was killed.

_"Morsmordre!" _

But no longer. It would be nice to say that even though this group of people, known only as 'Death Eaters', had attacked the peasants without warning and destroyed all the barriers that stood in their way, somehow, the King's Guard, in one last attempt, saved the entire kingdom from being taken over.

But this story is not a fairytale, and this part of history in Annwn must be told truthfully. Although there was a last ditch effort to stop these Death Eaters and their Dark Lord, it didn't work. They all fell. The king was murdered. And now no one dared asked who was king. They ruled. And anyone who lived in Annwn at that time would always know and always pass on the knowledge of who _they _were to their own children.

This is fifty years later.

A prophecy was uttered and very few heard it. The Dark Lord was one of the very few who had heard it. Had his spy not been caught, he would have heard every word. But that was not important, not to him. The part that he did know was quite clear:

_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…"_

There was only one way to solve the problem. One solution. All children born in the seventh month, all children who had strange circumstances surrounding their birth, all children who could, like the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord, practice magic, were to be taken to the Guard and "processed."

Children who were "processed" were usually never seen again.

When the laws were first passed, everyone felt they were outrageous, and perhaps the Dark Lord knew this, because he helped to instill fear and dissension into neighbors. And now, approximately forty years after the laws had first been passed, a mother had to say good-bye to two of her sons.

-

She wrapped two loaves of bread as lovingly as she could, as slowly as she could. She mustn't be slow, the Guard would be in the village soon and the man with the cart should be along any moment now. But she couldn't help her slowness. It felt like a leaden weight on her heart, that kept threatening to drag her down. And if she sank down, she was sure she'd burst into tears.

Perhaps it was because she always thought they'd be safe. They were just far enough outside the village and the village was just far away enough from the capitol that they couldn't possibly ever attract attention. But now they were searching, searching for the children who had to be processed. Tears pricked threateningly at her eyelids, despite her best efforts to keep them back.

She placed them in the small pack she was making for the two of them. They were sitting at the table, watching her, strangely quiet for once. Could they tell what was happening? Could they tell that her heart was breaking into millions of pieces? They were usually so happy, so ready for fun and games. Each one of her children were so precious to her…she would miss rolling on the floor with the two of them and ending up in a laughing heap. Laughing so hard that tears would roll down her cheeks and her sides would hurt. In times like these, their laughter really was the most precious thing of all. They didn't understand why their mother had to be serious or keep them in the house or, if they went outside, they would have to stay extra close to their home. They didn't understand the fights that their mother sometimes got into with their father, which weren't really bad fights, but sometimes there was shouting.

Their older brother would pat them on the head and tell them in a low voice that mother wasn't mad at their father, she was just tired. That times were very hard. These were all things they couldn't really understand.

Closing the pack for them, she gestured towards them.

"Fred, George." She beckoned to them and they slid off their chairs and walked over to her curiously, wanting to know why she had told them to put on their coats, as though they were going to play outside.

She slid the pack on Fred's shoulders and opened her mouth to say something but all that came out were practical things. How much food she had packed. How much water. Don't forget your shoes.

It was hard to say the emotional things. It had always been a little difficult for her, she had always been bustling around, and raising all her children. There wasn't enough time for her to take each child aside and tell them how important they were to her. To tell them how much she loved them. Even now, she was relying on that hustle and bustle to help ease the suffering.

The cart came. She heard those horse hooves and winced quite visibly. He came around the back, just like she had asked him. The two held hands as their mother led them outside. It was time to go. Not that they could possibly understand what that meant.

They were looking at her with those wide, beautifully brown eyes. Why did it have to be this way? How could she make them understand that this wasn't what she wanted to do? How could she hold them in her arms right before thrusting them into the arms of strangers?

"These…these are for you." She trembled slightly as she pulled out two thin pieces of wood, around ten or eleven inches long. She handed one to each of them and though they didn't know it, these were only part of the reason she had to give them away. "Promise me you'll never show them to anyone. Promise me you'll never pull them out unless you're by yourselves. Please…promise me…"

"Promise." They chorused together, stumbling over the word a little.

"If something happens, you must remember to find Albus Dumbledore." She was kneeling next to them, a hand on George's left shoulder and Fred's right shoulder. They were only three years old. How could they know? "Remember, find Albus Dumbledore."

She trembled again, but she kept trying so hard to hold back her tears. They were ignoring her fight and spilling down her round, kind face. She put on her best reassuring smile all the same.

"I love you, with all my heart." She told them. "We'll be together again soon, right?"

"Be back in for dinner." George grinned at her. He obviously thought it was some kind of game.

"We won't wander off." Fred promised. She bit her lip, but it didn't help at all. She threw her arms around the two little boys, hugging them to her, her whole body shuddering with the force of her crying.

The two little boys didn't really understand, but didn't want to see their mother cry, so they hugged her back. She'd feel better after a hug. That's what she always told them.

It took all her strength to put them on the back of that cart, all her resolve. It was what she had to do. To give them a chance to survive. To give them a chance to live. She turned away, even as she nodded to the man who drove the cart, whom she had paid the day before to bring her two sons to a special location, where they would be picked up by those who could take care of them in secret.

She whipped back around to look at the cart, before the sound of its creaking wheels completely faded. Fred and George were standing up in the cart, looking back at her. She had to save them. All her other children would pass for normal. All her other children wouldn't attract attention.

But Fred and George would. They would certainly be processed. For they were identical twins. Each freckle, each expression, they were exactly the same. Her hand went to her chest, where it closed into a fist.

_Please remember…it's all for you…_

_To live…_

-

It would be hard to explain Fred and George's state of mind at this time. They both knew for sure something was wrong, they agreed on that in the cart, though they couldn't really decide what exactly was wrong.

"Why did she look sad?" Fred asked his twin brother, who was sitting next to him on the pile of hay and holding his hand. He always felt better when George held his hand.

"Maybe she hurt herself." George suggested in a tone that was really quite solemn compared to their usual happy ones.

"Yeah!" Fred nodded his head vigorously. "Like when I hurt my knee."

"Let's ask when we go back." George decided and Fred agreed with this plan. After that, they began to discuss a number of things, including caterpillars, ladybugs, and why berries with sugar tasted much better than both bugs.

Even though they were talking normally and occasionally tickling the other, there was some unspoken something between them. No one else would have noticed it but they did. The only evidence of that was that Fred and George, no matter what, did not let go of each other's hands.

The ride on the cart was long and Fred and George both knew that home was further and further away. They leaned back in the afternoon sun and fell asleep. The warm sun lit up their orange hair, shone on their pale skin, lighting up the freckles that sprinkled over their identical noses. If their mother could see them, laying down for a nap without a struggle that was half chasing the twins around and then trying to get to lay down in their bed. They had two beds at one time but one of them would always climb into bed with the other and they protested loudly if their mother tried to put them in separate beds again. She gave up on the fruitless struggle.

The sun sank down below the horizon and George was jostled awake by the cart hitting a stone on the road. Fred was awakened by his movement. The cart was still going along but it seemed to be slowing. Perhaps they would stop and find somewhere to camp for the night. Or maybe they had finally gotten there.

"Michaels!" They heard the voice call to the man on the cart. The cart stopped completely.

"Ah, I thought you'd be around here." The man on the cart answered. "I've got 'em."

"Two?" This voice that had been talking sounded greedy. "Two little boys like you said?"

"Yep. They're a little small now but you can wait a couple of years to sell them." The man on the cart had jumped down. Fred and George were confused by this conversation.

"How did you get them?" The greedy voice came around with the man on the cart. This greedy man, who was obviously rich, by the number of gaudy gold rings around his fingers, gave a start when he saw the two of them. "Twins!"

"I figured you could sell them separately." The man who drove the cart shrugged. It didn't seem to bother him that they were twins. Fred and George knew what the word 'separately' meant. They had heard it more than once. One of their older brothers was always trying to separate them as a punishment. It usually worked.

"George." Fred squeezed his brother's hand as tightly as he could.

"No!" George yelled at the two men who looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Together!"

"I don't know, I'm not really sure about buying twins…" The rich man looked at them apprehensively. "I don't need the Guard coming by to process two slaves."

"Maybe you could disguise one of them." The cart man suggested. "Look, are you gonna buy them or not?"

The twins looked at each other. They knew something was horribly wrong with this situation. They knew that it would involve separation if they stayed there. In that look, a thousand things passed. Desperation, fear, need. They needed to stay together, no matter what.

_We have to get away from these men…_

The message seemed to pass between them without either of them saying a word. Their hands, though grimy, gripped together so tightly that it hurt. But it hurts more to let go.

"Fine, I'll give you six galleons for the lot." The rich man offered.

"Six galleons! Come on, that's highway robbery! You make a hundred times that for each slave!" The cart man argued.

"You want to be caught with twins on this road?" The rich man asked with a tone that made the cart man hesitate a little. "Alright, alright, fifty for the pair of them. Unless you wanna see what the Guard does to smugglers."

"What about what they do to slave traders?" The cart man poked the rich man in the chest with his finger.

"It's perfectly legal. They just…_frown _upon it when it comes to child slavery." The rich man still looked around in a paranoid manner. George suddenly jerked on Fred's arm and it was their unspoken cue. They scrambled to their feet as the two men argued, not noticing this and jumped down the side of the cart, rolling into the ditch beside the road.

They heard an angry shout and knew that they had just noticed their escape attempt.

"RUN!" Fred shouted and him and George ran, ran as hard as they could, towards the forest that was across the field from them. Their short little legs working as fast as they could. There was no way to get away from the men. They were just too small. But separation was something they could not bear. Although they were children, somewhere in the depths of their souls they understood the phrase, "Or die trying." It was important to get away.

The night air was cold and they were glad for their coats, although the cold air was sharp on their lungs. They were not going to make it to the forest. They wouldn't possibly be make it before the men caught up with them.

"Jump!" George somehow managed to get out. Fred had no idea what he meant but when he looked forward, he saw something that the tall grass hid. A river. It wasn't huge, nor particularly wide but they weren't very good swimmers yet. He hesitated only a little but jumped in with George. It went up to their chests, with a terrific splash. He knew they were right after them.

The two twins hugged each other in the icy water, trying to find a hiding place. Only one place was left. They both made eye contact for a few seconds before bending down into the water. They had learned to hold their breath in water already, one of their older brothers taught them how. He never got around to teaching them to swim, their mother had said they were too young. But they could stay under water. Holding on to the other, they moved in the water, crawling on the river bed, hoping to get upstream a bit before they had to come up for air.

Their little lungs couldn't hold very much but somehow they knew to come up as quietly as possible. They were only three feet from where they had been, but they were up against the bank. They heard swearing and the two men, who had suddenly lost sight of them walk away. They waited, shivering in the cold water, until they thought they wouldn't be able to stand it anymore. The two men had long since had walked out of ear shot.

Fred crawled out onto the opposite bank first, then George. They were both shivering terribly. They both wanted to change out of their wet clothes and sink down onto the rug in front of the fireplace at their home. But they couldn't do this. They had to keep to going. Keep going through the woods, not understanding the dangers of cold air and wet clothing.

The woods weren't really a forest, but more a small grove that they got through in under an hour, but still shivering. Just as George turned to announce to Fred that they were on the other side of it, he felt something terrible. Fred let go of his hand.

"Fred?" George turned towards his twin, who had just sank down to his knees. "Fred!"

"Don't…feel good…" Fred feebly took his coat off. "I'm…too hot…" George did the only thing he knew to do. When either one of them felt sick, their mother always pressed a hand to their forehead. George did so and thought that Fred felt too cold, not hot like he was expecting.

"You're cold!" George had wide eyes as he announced this fact. He looked out on the landscape in front of him. It was hills. Hill after hill for as far as he could see on that night with the moon shining all around them. No one to help them. They had to go on.

But Fred was sick, George was sure of it. He didn't know what to do. He would never leave Fred and try to look for help. It wouldn't have occurred to him, not at that age. Even if it ever occurred to him as an adult, he wouldn't have done it.

He grabbed his twin's arm and put it around his shoulder. It was the only thing he could think of. They had to keep going.

They stumbled along, George going slow for his brother. Fred trying his hardest not to drag his brother down, not that George would have ever thought of it like that. The hills were difficult. Each one was overcome, only to see that there were just more hills. And no sign of anyone else.

Fred suddenly stumbled on a clump of Earth that wasn't quite where he thought it was. He pitched forward, taking George with him. They rolled down the hill, which only hurt when the occasional stone hit them. They were at the bottom of the hill, bruised and feeling battered, but not seriously injured.

George looked down at his twin in the moonlight. Fred's cheeks were flushed with his fever, he looked like he was somewhere else, and George didn't like that feeling. He wanted Fred to be right there with him.

"George…I don't feel good…go find mum…" Fred asked in a weak voice. Not his usual vibrant one.

"No! I'm staying here! I'm not leaving!" George dropped down, pressing his head against Fred's chest, not even noticing the damp clothing or the fact that he wasn't feeling very well either. It wasn't important. He had to make sure Fred knew that he was there for him. It wasn't right, none of this was right.

A strong pair of hands lifted him away from his brother and for a moment, George was choked with fear. Did they catch up? Did they secretly follow them? He couldn't bear the thought of that and suddenly tried to twist in the pair of arms. He was turned around to face the person. He had been lifted and so was eye to eye with them.

"Sneaking up on me, eh, laddie?" The voice questioned and George's eyes widened in horror as he saw that the man who was holding him had only one normal eye.

The other one was a shining ball of electric blue.

-

To Be Continued

-


	2. Part the Second

And you're back for more twin action! Shutting up now.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I own Annwn though. No, that's a lie. Ha. I think Celtic mythology does though, you'd have to ask.

Warnings: Stuff!

Note: Annwn is the name for the Celtic underworld. Just in case some of you were confused by the uh, disclaimer thing. Which also ties into that whole _Inferiorum _thing.

-

Doppelganger

Part the Second

-

Fred got better over the course of a few days.

The man who had frightened George badly the first time he saw him, was a hermit. He lived in a home that had been made by hollowing out one of the hills. After questioning George vigorously (even though it was quite clear that George couldn't understand most of the questions) twice, he decided that George and Fred were not demons, nor part of 'the Enemy', or any number of things he thought for the first few weeks, he decided that it was okay to take them in.

He had Fred and George change out of their wet things into some of his own clothes. (Which were two big for the twins and they kept tripping over their own sleeves.) He piled blankets over Fred and gave him soup and hot tea. Fred complained about the heat.

"Aye, but you'll need to break that fever." The hermit explained as he put a hand on Fred's forehead. George sat in a chair right next to Fred at first but it was night time and he soon got too sleepy, and so crawled into bed with his brother and fell asleep.

After a few days, Fred was well enough to be out and about. The twins decided to stay there with the hermit instead of going on. The hermit didn't seem to mind them at all. In fact, he was always reminding them that danger was always all around them at any time.

"Keep your eyes and ears open. Constant vigilance!" The hermit would slap his hand on the table and make Fred and George both jump.

They had tried to explain to the hermit would had happened, that their mother had put them on a cart and that bad men chased them through a field. They knew that their mother had told them to find someone but unfortunately, they couldn't remember the name.

"Probably a relative." The hermit would rub his chin. "Unless of course it wasn't _really _your mother and just someone who _looked _like your mother…"

The twins were too young to really understand what he meant and so they thought he was trying to make them laugh. So they laughed for him. They kept trying to make him laugh.

As they grew older, they kept trying this but their methods grew more and more mischievous. When they were seven, they thought that a water bucket (that they had to get from the well), placed in a certain position over a partially opened door (they had to stand on the rocking chair, that had a stool on it to do this.) would do the trick. The hermit was doused with water and had been so shocked that he pulled out several knives from his pockets while Fred and George broke into peals of laughter. The hermit, when he discovered it was a joke, told them sharply that he had seen people die that way.

By this time, Fred and George knew not to take him seriously. No one else did.

They discovered this when they were six and some visitors showed up at the cave. The hermit had nearly had a heart attack and the two, a man and a woman, had merely shrugged at him.

"No 'arm meant." The man, who was about the same age as the hermit held up his hands sheepishly. "'onestly, you aught to be a little less vigilant…"

"Less vigilance would have gotten me killed ten years ago!" The hermit defended himself.

The man that came, who always smelled of some strange scent that later Fred and George recognized as alcohol, was one of their favorite people. He had all sorts of funny stories to tell them, ones that would make his eyes water with laughter as he told it to them. They'd listen eagerly, hearing about all the mischief he got himself into.

The woman who came with him would beat him over the head with a bag. She was a batty older lady, who wore slippers everywhere, had a bag full of cat food, and often had a cat or two following her around. She would always scold the man who smelt of alcohol about teaching them bad lessons.

One of the more memorable times would be their thirteenth birthday (for though they weren't sure when their birthday was, they celebrated the day that the old hermit took them in), when he brought them alcohol. They had only gotten a small taste before they had all three been discovered. Later, the woman would look back and laugh, remembering the identical expressions of all three.

Growing up in the cave and the hills had its downsides. They learned there what they had never known. The reason their mother had to send them away. The hermit decided not to lie to them and explain what he suspected. That their mother didn't want to give them up but had to.

"Because you're identical twins." The hermit told them. "You would have been sent to be processed." This was at the age of nine, and Fred and George both had no idea what 'processed' meant. The hermit could tell by their blank faces. "You would have been sent away and most likely killed.

"She was probably trying to save your lives. Unfortunately, something went wrong. You said she wanted you to find someone?" The hermit raised his eyebrow at them.

_"You must remember to find…"_

Neither Fred nor George could remember the name. They were too little when they heard it and now it had been too long. If only they could remember. But their memories of their mother were so few. They remembered a woman with a kind, round, face, smiling at the two of them.

But they also remembered the last time they saw her and how sad she looked.

When they got to be a little older, they would talk about it. They would sit there, sometimes at the very same little river they had hidden in, and throw stones in there and talk about her, and why she had looked so sad. Giving them up must have been hard. Remembering that she had been sad made them know she loved them, that she hadn't wanted to.

Sadly, they had no idea what direction their house was in. It was just too far. They couldn't remember her name, because she had never told them her name, she was just their mother. That was all she had to be.

They were very careful when they went out to close to the road on the other side of the woods and the meadows. They had gotten scarves and hats and would wrap scarves around their shoulders, so that they covered their mouths, and wide-brimmed hats, pulled down, so that it was very hard to see their faces.

Unlike some twins, they never went their separate ways; they never grew into different things. They liked the same things, or maybe just near enough the same things that they never noticed a difference. They thought up elaborate pranks to pull on the hermit and made up a thousand games to play in the hills.

The blue sky above them, the green hills spread out before them, they would always remember this time fondly. But when their thirteenth birthday came, they felt a sudden pull.

Perhaps it was the alcohol man with his tales of things he had done in the big cities and what not that drove them to be curious about the world. Maybe it was a hundred different things. They knew that somewhere there was something waiting for them. A round, kind face. And brothers.

It wasn't so often that they brought up the brothers. It was hard to remember them too, but they knew they existed. There had been one who was always separating them as a punishment, the one who had taught them how to swim, and then another one, who was comforting and loving. The one who had explained to them why there were arguments between their mother and father. And they felt that there was one other one…a very small one who could only be carried about.

But for some reason, both of the twins felt uncomfortable talking about their other brothers. It was like they were some dream they had and that George and Fred, who had always been together, were the only real ones. Often, the subject would end and one, or maybe both at the same time, though they'd never confess it, felt jealousy that there _were_ other brothers. They didn't think of anyone else the way they thought of each other.

But eventually, at the age of thirteen, they decided they were too old for the cave. They were too old for the hermit, who, while never learning to really laugh and relax, did learn that any partially opened doors were dangerous. They wanted to see the world that the two visitors described. Big cities and roads and villages and interesting people and all sorts of things.

"'Cause the most important thing is to laugh." George told Fred one day as they were sitting up in a tree next to each other and watching the sunset. "We've had some bad times…but if you laugh at them, they're not so bad, are they?"

"We'll make everyone laugh!" Fred agreed with an ambitious look in his eye. "You won't have bad times around us!" They laughed for a little bit at their own antics. And so, with this thought, they set out one early morning, very discretely so that the old hermit wouldn't stop them.

They set out onto the road, towards other people, who might recognize them.

At first, it did feel like a grand adventure. The two of them, dressed alike, scarves and hats on, and carrying their individual bags slung over their shoulders, whistling the exact same tune.

There were very little songs around the old hermit. He never sang. Sometimes, when the man who smelled of alcohol had too many drinks, he would sing very silly songs but the twins had never really bothered to learn them.

The one song they did know was a soft, lilting tune, that sounded like something you might sing to someone if you were putting them down to sleep. They both knew it was the song their mother used to sing to them.

It was a comfort and a familiarity. If Fred or George woke up from a nightmare, the other one would always be there to hold them close and hum the tune of the song until they went back to sleep.

After a day and a half of walking though, the whistling died down and the chatter among the two boys had stopped. They were rather tired of all the walking but they kept on going. At the end of the second day, they spotted something far down the road. They couldn't be exactly sure what it was but they knew they would find out tomorrow. When they got up the next day and began walking again, they were delighted to see that it was a walled city.

And what a city it was! Fred and George had never seen anything like it. Roofs peaked out over the thirty foot stone walls, the gates looked as though they needed many men to close them, and it was surrounded by flat green countryside all around it. Distantly, the two twins could see something behind the city, a group of peaks that disappeared into the clouds above them. The Mountains of the North.

"Halt." A sharp command made both the twins stop before they could go into the gates. One of the Guard—which Fred and George didn't know very well because they had only heard about the Guard, had not actually ever seen one. They could tell that the uniforms were just as the batty woman had described them.

_"Those horrid white and red uniforms…mocking the Royal Guard." _

"What is your business in the city of Fal?" The guard asked them. Fred and George looked at each other, exchanging blank looks.

"Er, well…" Fred began to try to think of something smart. "We've been traveling for days and so…"

"So we're looking for shelter and food." George added in a very believable tone.

"Then you may proceed—but remember that Fal punishes criminals heavily." The guard gave them a stern look, and their faces broke out into what they clearly thought were winning smiles.

"Aye-aye." Fred saluted.

"Wait." The guard grabbed Fred's shoulder. "Undo your scarves and take off those hats. I don't trust men who don't show their faces."

"We can't." George grabbed Fred's other arm and pulled him away from the Guard. "We've got hideous faces."

"Absolutely frightening." Fred added on, nodding his head.

"We'll give you nightmares for weeks." George finished and they both felt pleased with their answer.

"That is not a reason. Take off those hats and scarves." The guard barked at them once more.

"Looks like the man means business, George." Fred had a defeated tone to his voice. "Looks like we'll have to show him our faces."

"Exactly." George agreed in the same defeated tone. They both looked at each other and exchanged winks that only they could see. Fred whipped off his hat and scarf quickly while George ran past. The guard failed to notice a second to late as he had been preoccupied with seeing Fred's face.

"Hey! You stop!" The guard blew yelled and the guards standing there looked like they were going to go after George. "And you—"

Fred dove between the guard's legs and scrambled away. The guard went to grab him but the thirteen year-old Fred was a little too quick for that. The Guards started to come after Fred instead but were confused when they lost sight of Fred for just a moment and saw him a second later in a different part of the crowd.

"Which way do we go captain?" One guard asked the guard in charge.

"Oh, forget them. They're probably just lousy street urchins." The captain decided not to waste any time on so minor a threat. They had far more important matters to attend to as it was.

Fred ran through the crowd, wondering where he and George were supposed to meet up. He pulled his hat over his red hair and wrapped the scarf around himself and glanced about.

A hand grabbed his shoulder and Fred instinctively turned with a grin. There was George. He wasn't wearing his scarf and hat but had them firmly clutched in his hands.

"Cheers, brother." George declared.

After congratulating each other on such a daring escape, they went about trying to find somewhere to use as a home. They had no money so getting a room at an inn was out of the question. Several places offered them jobs in exchange for room and board but Fred and George were not interested in _working._

They found a house that was boarded up and empty. There were several of these around and sometimes people bought them and started businesses but sometimes they just sat there. This one had been empty for quite some time.

They found that there were stairs going up it on the outside for someone to get down. It was four stories high and Fred and George both agreed that the top story would be the best because then they could look out over the city.

"Plus, someone's bound to notice us if we're going in and out of the ground floor." Fred pointed out as they surveyed the house carefully, not wanting to attract anyone's unwanted interest.

So they waited until it was dark and made their way up the stairs that ended when they reached the fourth floor and broke the wet and weak boards in front of the window. Then they carefully pulled up the window and got inside. It was dark and there were pieces of debris lying about, as there is in every attic, but it was dry and warmer than outside.

"Kind of a dump." George nudged a glass bottle with his foot that he could see from the small amount of light coming in through the window.

"I love it though." Fred took his brother's hand.

"Me too." George squeezed Fred's hand.

-

Stealing came to them very naturally. They didn't even usually refer to it as 'stealing'. They liked to refer to it as 'scrumping.' ("I've scrumped us breakfast.") It wasn't as though they hadn't been taught that stealing was wrong but if they hadn't stolen anything, they would have starved to death. Of course, they could have gotten jobs, but they couldn't bear the idea of not being able to do just what they liked every day.

They already had blankets; they had taken those with them when they had left the old hermit's. They went out for food and also to walk around the city together. Every day, they went about, usually munching on whatever food they had expertly stolen and looking. Looking for that kind, round face. They hadn't admitted it out loud, but they knew they were looking for it deep down in their hearts.

The other street urchins didn't really like them because Fred and George didn't look for alliances or particularly try to make friends with any of them. The two boys knew that they could rely on each other during carefully plotted plans and trusted the other one when it came to escape plans that sometimes became necessary.

And so this was how they spent their days, sometimes forming elaborate plans for stealing things, or watching the crowds. Occasionally, they found there was a way to sneak into the opera house and they would watch operas from the rafters. There was always something to see in Fal. Some procession would go through and visit any of the huge houses in the rich part of town, or street performers would entertain anybody who walked by.

But one day, they saw something that was really worth seeing.

They had just gotten breakfast and were finishing it up as they walked around, discussing what they would do that day when Fred turned his head sharply. George tried to follow his gaze but couldn't see what his brother was looking at that was so interesting.

"What is it?" George questioned him but Fred only took off in answer. George was right behind him as they rushed through the crowds, dodging and weaving around people. George didn't know what Fred was after.

Until Fred stopped and George had to stop quickly to avoid knocking into him. George saw over his shoulder. There was someone facing away from them, buying meat from a meat vendor. The person wasn't very tall, in fact, the person was very young. The thing that had caught Fred's eye, and George's now, was this person's hair. The bright red locks that tumbled past this person's shoulders.

As the person turned away from them again and started to walk away, holding a few parcels filled with raw meat, Fred went forward, George with him, to put a hand on the girl's (for there was little doubt that it was a girl) shoulder. She turned for half a moment and they saw her deep brown eyes, framed in long lashes, and the freckles sprinkled over her nose. But then her eyes widened and she ran away and into the crowd.

The twins went straight after her.

"Wait! Stop!" George called out to her but she didn't stop, she went right on running, her parcels swinging on her arms as she suddenly turned and disappeared into an alleyway.

The two boys followed her and chased her down a maze of alleys until at last, the girl turned into one alley only to find it was a dead end. There was no one else around as she turned, trembling slightly as she did so but she looked right at them as they caught up. Even though she was only eleven, and small, there was some determined strength about her, radiating off in waves. She was small, but if she had to fight, she would.

"Finally." Fred straightened up after catching his breath. They were both looking at her bright red hair and freckles with great fascination. She looked from one to the other, not knowing what to make of them.

George took off his hat and unwrapped his scarf slowly. As he did so, the girl's eyes widened further.

"You…you look like us." George stated and she stared at him in open mouth disbelief.

"Who…who are you?" She asked in much the same tone. She was clearly astonished, with her mouth hanging open even when she wasn't speaking. "You look like one of my brothers…"

Fred took off his scarf and his hat at this moment. Instantly the girl took a step back and her face showed that she was frightened.

"Demons!" She backed up against the wall, looking as though she desperately wished she could climb it. "You're demons!"

"No, we aren't demons." Fred shook his head. "We're just regular people!"

"But you're…you look just alike!" She pointed a finger at them as though they hadn't realized it before. They glanced at each other and then back at her. "I heard that if you see…_twins_, it means you'll die the next day!"

"That's not true." George shrugged easily. "The hermit we used to live with never died."

"But…that's what my master said." She seemed to be struggling with this. "I've never seen twins before…everybody says it's unlucky. It's even a saying…you know, 'Unlucky as a pair of twins.'"

"We're not unlucky, I'm Fred and he's George." Fred gestured to his twin.

"No, _I'm _Fred." George claimed and the girl blinked a few times in confusion.

"No, I am!" Fred took a threatening step towards his brother. "_You're_ George."

"Oh, yeah?" And George and Fred proceeded to tackle each other and engaged in obviously staged fight that stopped abruptly when they heard a small tinkling laugh. They looked up at her with grins. The red-haired girl, with her stained grey dress and smudged white apron, was laughing.

They didn't know it then, but they would soon come to find out that it was the first time she had laughed in three years.

"Oh, I'm sorry." She stopped, wiping at her eyes. "I didn't mean to laugh at you but you were too funny and you remind me of…" She looked at them. "I don't really think you're demons…you just frightened me a little. When you chased me down like that…awful things happen in big cities, you can't blame me for running."

"It's alright." Fred helped George up. "I'm really Fred."

"And I'm really George." George stuck a hand out at the same time that Fred did "Let's shake and be friends."

"Alright." She took their hands. "Twins might really be unlucky, but that's okay, because I've always been unlucky." The three looked at each other and some might say that it was instinct and others would have dismissed the notion altogether but they knew they belonged together.

-

To Be Continued

-


	3. Part the Third

It's starting to get good…but what's gonna happen next? Allow me to help myself to some grape bubble gum and tell you.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Warnings: Physical abuse and some other bad stuff.

-

Doppelganger

Part the Third

-

They did not ask, nor did she offer to tell them, her name. They thought she looked like them and it was possible that they might be related—even though they could remember no sister.

But she was instantly thought of as one. She had to go back to her master's house, for she was a child slave, and Fred and George asked if they could meet her again. She said she would meet them at this exact spot the next day.

That was how they began seeing each other every day after that. She would run up, looking much the same as always, always in that grey dress and not quite clean apron. The first few meetings were held entirely in the town, walking together, and telling the girl stories about themselves. She would go about errands she had to do for her master and they would go amiably along, chatting amongst themselves.

She seemed to them very good. She was a lot like the face of their mother, as if she were trying to emulate this face, or perhaps a younger version of it. Kind, but very wistful. She clearly always wanted to be somewhere else. Fred and George wondered a few times at night what it could be.

"Maybe she was sent away by her mother…" Fred didn't say that it was their mother too, because they weren't really sure. They looked like they were related, but people sometimes do even though they share absolutely no relations at all. Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

"Or maybe she was stolen away." George was on his side, just like his brother was, and they faced each other as they spoke. Bedtime was always the time for speculating about things before drifting off to sleep together. "Do you think we should ask?"

"Maybe she'll tell us." Fred pulled out the thin piece of wood his mother had given him years ago. He and George liked to discuss what they were. Whatever they were, they were precious. "It's not like you and me. We can tell each other anything, but she doesn't know us that well."

"She doesn't know if she can trust us." George's fingertips lightly grazed over Fred's hand that was holding the piece of wood. "She ought to know she can. We won't tell."

"No we won't…" Fred looked right into his brother's eyes. "But can we trust her?"

"What do you mean?" George propped himself up on his elbow.

"Would you tell her things that only we know?" Fred flopped over onto his back and he was looking at the thin piece of wood. "Stuff that's…that's ours?"

"Well…" George suddenly saw that he did have an uncomfortable feeling as he thought of her being just as close to them as they were to each other. That wasn't right. It was just the two of them.

_It's always been just the two of us…_

_ Won't it always be that way?_

"And that brings up something else I've been thinking about." Fred went on. "What if when we get older we meet some girls and fall in love and get married?"

"We don't have to." George immediately thought of the old hermit. He could never imagine _him _being married.

"But what if we do?" Fred insisted. George tried to imagine himself falling in love with a girl and marrying her. The image was too foreign to grasp. A world where there was someone between him and Fred. He instantly didn't like it. Anything that stopped them from being like this, lying like this next to each other, would be like ripping out his chest.

"I won't ever get married." George finally declared. "I don't want that sort of life…" A terrible thought suddenly ran through his head. What if _Fred_ wanted something else? What if _Fred_ wanted to have someone else in his life? But the words couldn't find themselves to form a question. To ask if Fred was strong enough to leave him…or if George was strong enough to let him…Finally, he couldn't bear the silence that had settled after he had trailed off.

"Do you?"

George heard the piece of wood hit the floor and saw Fred turning over, but before he knew it, Fred had turned him on his back, and was looking down at him with an intense look in his eyes. His hands were pinning George's to the floor.

"I love you." Fred whispered fiercely. "I love you more than I'll ever love anybody."

"That's how much I love you." George felt a wave of reassurance wash over him. Fred wasn't going to leave him. Fred would always be right there with him. As the two stared at each other, George was gripped with a strange urge to do…well, _something_. He wasn't sure what. But it was something just beyond words. Fred dropped down and laid his head on George's chest.

"I know…I know…" Fred repeated as George ran a hand through Fred's hair. "After all, we're just alike."

"But I feel like we can still trust her." George looked up into the darkness. "It'll just be a different kind of trust. And maybe we'll love her, but it'll be a different kind of love."

"That's what I was thinking too." Fred murmured. The two drifted off to sleep after that, but George could not quite forget the intense look in Fred's eyes as he leaned over him.

_"I love you more than I'll ever love anybody."_

A sensation that felt as though it was burning him from the inside would make his chest feel tight every time he thought of those words.

-

The next day, they invited her to come see where they lived. She was a bit hesitant about it but decided to come anyways.

"I'll just tell my master that it took a long time." She decided as she followed them. "I want to see where you live."

Today there was something that bothered them intensely about her appearance. A dark bruise that went across her cheek. When the inquired about it as soon as they met, she immediately began talking about something else. They had exchanged dark looks about it, but she didn't budge on the subject.

When they arrived, she marveled at the view they had and seemed to like the place. They had cleaned up a bit, putting most of the debris in the room below. They had explored the whole house a few times but it was quite empty, other than a few things that really mattered—like a small cupboard full of candles. Sometimes at night, if they were up talking, they'd light a candle and talk over the light. There was something cozy about it when the wind howled passed the windows at night, and they were seated across from each other, the light making their hair only that much more vivid.

"And now for lunch!" Fred declared and they started to take out some things from the sacks they were carrying. They had a loaf of bread, some cheese, and some very lovely apples.

"How did you get this?" She inquired. The devious looks on their faces told her. "Oh, stealing." She didn't sound as though she looked down on it, merely that she was noting it.

"Scrumping." George corrected her. "We go scrumping for our meals."

"I like that." She smiled. "Scrumping."

"What should we talk about?" Fred asked the two of them but from the way that both Fred and George immediately looked at her, she seemed to know she was supposed to start the topic of conversation.

"Well…you've told me loads about you." She said with a considering look. "How about I tell you a bit about me?"

"Yeah?" George and his twin shared a small knowing smile.

"As you know, I'm a child slave." She began before taking a bite of out of her share of the bread. "Ever since I was eight. My mum always used to tell me not to wander too far from the house but I never really listened…we didn't call it 'the house'. We used to call it 'the Burrow.'" She smiled fondly to herself. "One day, I wandered away, into the woods a little bit and that's when I was kidnapped—by slave traders you know. They sold me to the man who owns me now."

"Who's that?" Fred inquired.

"A man named Argus Filch." She said the name in a bitter tone, her eyes on her piece of bread. "Him and his awful cat, Mrs. Norris." She looked up at them. "I love cats, really I do, but that cat is always there when you do something wrong." Then, perhaps subconsciously, one of her hands touched the bruise on her cheek lightly.

"What happens when you do something wrong?" George's tone sounded like he wasn't sure he wanted the answer.

"It's not really important." She gave them a very forced smile. "So, tell me, how did you get all this food anyways?"

And so they entertained her with a full re-enactment of the whole scenario, imitating voices, and going through all the actions. She clapped her hands together as they bowed at the end, like they had seen the performers do at the opera house and on the street.

Then she glanced out the window and started a little.

"I really have to be going." She gathered up her skirts as she went over to the window. "Really, I've had a lovely time, I'll be back tomorrow. I just have to go if I don't want there to be any trouble."

"Wait," Fred stopped her before she opened the window. "Are you…you'll be okay, right?"

"I'll be fine." She assured him and then, without any warning, came over and gave them both a very quick hug. "You two always make me laugh…and I really like that…no one else ever makes me laugh."

"You won't have bad times around us." George repeated something the two had said to each other awhile back. He could still remember the tree they were sitting in, the roughness of the bark against their skin, and the way Fred threw back his head to laugh, his hair catching the setting sun's light as he did so.

_That's what we were born to do._

_ To laugh and make things seem less bad…_

_ In the end, isn't it always better to be able to laugh at yourself?_

And she left for the day. But she came back every day after that. Only they began to notice bruises on her. Bruises on her arms, bruises on her legs, they didn't know if she had more other places because of her grey dress that went only to her knees. But they began to think that there was something that she wasn't telling them. No, they _knew_, because after a few weeks, they had begun to recognize her facial expressions very well and her mannerisms.

They kept asking, but she wouldn't say where she had bruises from. Occasionally she would say she fell down or accidentally knocked into something but they could tell she was lying from the way she would ball up her fists in her lap, so that her skirt bunch up in her hands when she said these things.

But they didn't know what to do beyond asking and then trying to make her laugh and smile. Somehow, they weren't sure that was enough. How could they get her to tell?

Finally, one day, in the afternoon, she faltered a little. They knew she would tell. They were in the attic, sitting there together, and she looked to one side, as though ashamed, and then she did something that surprised them.

Her hands went to her buttons. They were along her back, and so they watched apprehensively as she began to undo them. They both wanted to ask what she was doing but didn't.

She stood up, turned away from them. Then, taking in a deep breath that seemed to make her resolve firmer, her small hands went to her shoulders and she pushed the dress down her arms. Her back was revealed completely to them.

"What the hell…" Fred trailed off as they stared in shock and horror at the sight in front of them.

Her pale back was littered with angry red welts that stuck out against the white flesh. They looked very painful and George and Fred stepped forward, both to put a gentle hand on her shoulder. She turned towards them, her eyes full of tears.

"What happened?" George asked in a voice so soft that it almost couldn't be heard. For once, laughter did not seem the suitable reaction to a situation. This was not for laughter. This was for kindness.

"Every time I do something wrong, I get beaten." They took their hands off her shoulders so she could pull her dress back up and start buttoning the back of it. When she finished she sat down and they sat down on either side of her, their backs against the wall—except for hers. She was leaned a little forward. "But he also whips me."

"He whips you?" Fred sounded faintly disgusted. "But you're just…you're so small…" He couldn't understand why somebody would want to hurt a small girl like her. Or want to for that matter. Even when she had a fading bruise on her cheek, she looked like a red-haired doll. She was really beautiful and neither Fred nor George would ever dispute that.

"That's just the way things are." She said simply. "I can live with it. It's not that bad."

"To hell it isn't!" George felt a violent urge to hit this man, this master of hers. What kind of man was he? Fred was nodding in agreement with George.

"I can stand it." She stuck out her chin, looking almost offended by the protectiveness that the two boys were showing. "I really can. Unless maybe you think I'm not strong enough to…"

"It has nothing to do with that." Fred put a hand on top of her hand and George, though he knew Fred was doing it to comfort her, felt a wave of jealousy wash over him. "But it's still wrong. It's wrong that you're a slave, it's wrong that you are beaten. It's wrong that you were whipped. Why were you whipped?"

"I dropped the tea tray." She answered in a hollow voice.

"See, that's not a crime. People drop things. People trip and fall. You can't punish someone for being human." George explained. "Look at me and Fred. If people saw us together without our hats and scarves, they'd kill us. That's the way it is, but it's still wrong. Maybe it'll change or maybe we'll find a place where we can just be us…"

"I've tried to run away before." She confessed. "But I didn't have anywhere to go and he told the Guard I was missing and I was brought back…" A sense of something that can only be explained as hopelessness hung over them. George and Fred had never felt this before and didn't know what to do with it. They sat there in silence for quite some time, not looking at each other, not looking at anyone.

"We'll think of something…" Fred trailed off and then, seeing the pained look on her face, decided to change the subject. "Hey, do you want to see something really neat that we found?"

"What?" She looked up at him with an interested expression. Apparently she wanted to change the subject too.

"You have to come with us." Fred looked over at George, who was also curious and when she looked away he mimicked someone singing so that George would be in on it.

"It's really good." George nudged her eagerly. "Come on, you'll like it."

"I don't know…" She looked out the window. "I should probably be getting back."

"Just for a few minutes?" Fred pleaded. "That can't hurt, can it?"

"Oh, alright." She finally gave in. "Did you know it's just about impossible to say 'no' to you two?"

"We know." Fred and George said at the exact same time, causing her to laugh. They left the attic and went down the stairs, which were located on the back of the building, away from the street, so it was hard to see the people going down the stairs of the supposedly abandoned building. The trio went down a few alleys and went along, talking about safe subjects. She described her room that was located next to the kitchen, and she seemed to like it because she could put fresh flowers in the vase whenever she wanted to.

"There's nothing like fresh flowers." She sighed happily to herself.

By the time they were at the opera house, dusk was settling in and they knew the opera would start soon. They went around the building next to it, where they climbed on top of a small shed, and then onto the building's roof. There was a jump onto a small balcony on the opera house which might have been for the workers, because it was only in the alley. Through that door, they carefully made their way down a dark, empty hallway, and then up a little row of stairs. They went through yet another door, and then, shimmied up a piece of rope before climbing carefully along wooden rafters that were located far above the audience and even further from the stage, but they could still somewhat make it out.

They went to their usual spot, which was where three large beams were attached to one beam at an angle so that you could sit there with your back against the beams and get comfortable while listening or watching the opera. At that distance, it was usually better to listen to it.

"It's so beautiful!" She looked so delighted that both Fred and George felt instantly glad they had thought of taking her there. "I've never seen an opera before…but, I have to get back to my house soon…I'm sure a few minutes watching couldn't hurt." They settled in and began to hear the notes climb all the way up into the rafters.

At first, she was leaned a little forward so she could watch the singers on the stage but then she leaned back and closed her eyes, listening. Fred and George were doing the same, on either side of her.

They stayed for the entire opera and she never said another word about getting back, apparently forgetting all about it as she listened. When it was over they all clapped a little, knowing they wouldn't be overheard from the thunderous applause below them. They left the rafters, and then the opera house. She was going on and on about how much she loved it and they kept reviewing their favorite parts. Though it was hard to make out the words, it was clear what emotions were being felt at what times in the opera.

She had left her apron at the attic and so they had to go and get it but when they got there, they were still talking easily about what had happened and the opera and the other operas that Fred and George had seen. Then they told her about the street performers, and the small little plays you could see for free done by the street performers. A few they acted out for her.

At first, she sat up, then she propped herself up on her elbows, then her chin rested on her hands, and then when Fred was saying something to George, she fell asleep. When Fred and George realized she had fallen asleep, they stopped talking for a moment.

She rolled over onto her side and her hair fell away from her face. She looked even younger when sleeping, her dark lashes settled against her pale cheeks. Her red hair framing her face.

"We should wake her." Fred finally stated after a little while. "She'll be in trouble when she gets home."

"It's not really her home. She just lives there." George said after a moment or two with an ugly look on his face. "I don't want to wake her up…it makes me feel worse that she's going to go home and get beaten or whipped."

"She should just stay here." Fred grabbed one of their two blankets and started to put it over her. "I mean, she said before she tried to run away but she didn't have anywhere to go. Now she does. She can stay here with us."

"Yeah, and if she's here, she won't be picked up by the Guard." George saw more and more that this was the perfect solution. "She can stay with us. You don't mind, right?"

"No." Fred shook his head. "It's different, her staying with us. She's like…Sometimes I think we really _are _related…it's the same kind of feeling I get around you…but different in some ways, you know?"

"She feels like family." George said firmly, because that is what it felt like. "Even if we aren't related, she's family."

"Now," Fred gently tugged on George's sleeve. "Let's go to bed."

-

She woke in the early hours of the morning, where everything has a grey feeling to it and you know that the rest of the world isn't quite awake yet. She saw the sleeping boys who were curled around each other and smiled at them.

But a sudden panic attack seized her. She had to get back. If Master Filch knew…he probably did already. She considered staying there for a moment, just staying with the two boys who so reminded her of her brothers and never going back to that horrid place again.

She would have, if something very dear to her wasn't there. A slender piece of wood who mother had given her when she was little and told her to never show anyone. Keep it hidden. That was her mother's words to her. She kept it in a secret place in her room, but she needed it. She couldn't just leave it there. It was the one thing she had left from her mother.

Tiptoeing across the room, she slid the window open slowly and climbed out, before closing it again and going down the stairs. She broke into a run, to get to Master Filch's house he had probably gone to bed and would think she would be there when he woke up. She would grab the thing her mother had given her and go back to Fred and George.

_They look like my brothers…_

_ They are my brothers…in my heart they are._

When she got to the house, the one member of the Guard posted outside of it (having members of the Guard in front of your house had everything to do with how much money you had, Filch was rich, but not that rich and so could only afford one member of the Guard on duty at all times) barely looked at her, because he knew she was the servant girl.

She went into the house through a side door on the kitchen, knowing that it would be a lot quieter than the big main door. She crossed the kitchen, and opened a door. It was her room. Her little room with flowers that were starting to wither. She reached behind the dresser, for a special little hole she had made in the wall and pulled out that thin piece of wood her mother had given her.

Carefully, she tucked it carefully in her bloomers. Now no one could get it except her. She was satisfied with the job she had done and decided to just quietly walk out of the kitchen door and passed the one guard.

_And then it'll be just the three of us…_

A cat meowed and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She whirled around to see Mrs. Norris, the old cat, looking at her with large lamp-like eyes.

"Damn!" She swore and went forward, to rush past the cat and through the kitchen but just as she did, Argus Filch stepped into the room. She knew she was in trouble from the look on his face.

"You've found her, my sweet." Mrs. Norris had jumped into Filch's arms. "She's in trouble now, isn't she?"

"I—" She tried to get in some sort of explanation, some wild excuse but he cut her off.

"You were out all night!" He accused her. "And now you try to insult me by having an excuse! Well, that's it, you're going to learn obedience, even if I have to do it the old-fashioned way."

"Go ahead! Go ahead and beat me!" She felt stronger and braver than she had in years. She was so close. She was going to be with Fred and George. She could make it.

"I don't think so." Mrs. Norris jumped out of Filch's arms and he grabbed her by the arm and started dragging her out of the room. The red-haired girl kicked and tried to get away but he kept a furious grip on her arm, his fingers digging in so hard that she was sure there would be bruises.

Down the stairs, into the basement. This was where he usually whipped her or beat her. But today, he took her over to a pair of manacles that were hanging from the ceiling. He pulled one down and clamped it over one wrist, and then took the other one and did the same to the other wrist. She kicked furiously as he walked away and begun turning a crank. She was lifted into the air, just a foot above it, and she struggled to try to slip out of the manacles.

"You'll find it much harder to run away." Filch looked thoroughly satisfied with his work. "And I'm not going to let you down until you don't have any more ideas about trying to break any more rules." And she knew, in a moment of panic and sheer terror, that this punishment would be far worse than a beating or a whipping.

He walked up the basement steps and then she heard the door close. There was no escape now. She closed her eyes and flashes of Fred and George ran through her head. She should have stayed there, she should have stayed…

_I shouldn't have wandered from home…_

-

When they woke and found her gone, they instantly panicked. They knew she had gone back and was probably being punished as they sat there, trying to figure out what to do. But there was nothing they _could _do.

"She'll be back." Fred held his brother's hand. "She will be."

"I know, she'll be back today and then we can tell her to stay…" George still felt like it was their fault for not waking her up and telling her. They should have told her that she was supposed to stay with them.

And they waited there all day but she never did come back. They both felt like something was wrong. Terribly wrong. She always came, every day. Why would she just stop coming?

The next day was even worse. It felt like there were a million hours of it and she was not there for any of them. Two days. Two days was too long. That's what they decided as they lit one of their candles for the night and talked, forming a plan. A plan that could get them into serious trouble if they were caught. But they were willing to take that chance. They had to find her and save her.

The plan did not take place until the morning of the third day. They had their heads covered with their hats and the scarves wrapped around their necks so that they were hard to see. Then, in those early hours of morning, the same ones that she had gone back during, they scrumped two big bags of oranges.

They knew which house it was because she had told them. The House of Master Argus Filch. Fred and George kept re-hoisting the bags that were slung over their backs. There was one guard there.

"Halt!" He stopped them the same way there were stopped at the gates into town. "What business do you have with this house?"

"Alls I know is that we got oranges to deliver." George spoke in the tough voice of an experienced delivery boy and also how the alcohol man spoke. "To this 'ouse."

"How do I know that's true?" The guard raised an eyebrow at them.

"They're oranges, see?" Fred opened his bag of oranges and the guard looked inside. He took one of the oranges and sniffed it, but seemed satisfied with it. He put it into his own pocket.

"Who ordered these oranges?" The guard questioned, but not nearly as suspiciously as before.

"Some red-'eaded girl." George shrugged. "What's it to ya?"

"Go on then." The guard waved them through. "And be quick, in and out and all that."

The two boys refrained from looking at each other and grinning victoriously as they went towards the large house. They saw a small door on the side that they decided to go through rather than the large front door where the master might be awake and might decide to question them.

They found that it was a door to the kitchen. Remembering what she had said about her bedroom being off the kitchen, they went to look there first. It was empty.

"What if she's not here?" Fred asked quietly.

"She's here." George replied firmly. They started to search the first floor but they found a door that had steps leading down and decided to investigate down there. The steps were dusty and the basement smelled of mold.

The twin boys turned from the staircase to the rest of the basement and what they saw shocked them. There she was, hanging with her hands above her, quite limply. Her eyes were closed and she could have been sleeping, if she didn't look so weary. With the sunshine coming through the window and hitting her fiery locks, she looked like a beautiful stained-glass angel, descending from the heavens. It was strange how beautiful she seemed at that very moment.

Fred saw right away that her chains were linked with a crank and he began to turn it. She was lowered to where her feet where touching the ground but she didn't stir at all, nor did her feet look like they were properly supporting her at all. George saw that on the wall, hanging off a hook, was a key. He began unlocking the manacles from her arms but when he unlocked the second one, she pitched forward and would have hit the ground if George had grabbed her.

"She's been hanging like this for awhile." Fred murmured as he turned one of the large bags of oranges over, spilling its contents over the floor. The oranges rolled away.

"Wake up." George lightly hit her face with his hand. She stirred for a moment, opened her eyes and semi-smiled.

"Oh, you're here…" She slipped right back into unconsciousness. Fred and George carefully got her into the now empty sack and helped disguise the contents by putting oranges in there with her. They both had to carry the sack now, as it was too heavy for one person alone. They left one of the sacks down there and carried it up the stairs, and through the kitchen, before going through the side door.

George and Fred's eyes met for a moment.

_We did it. It's okay. We're going to go back and everything will be alright._

But as they were walking past the guard, the guard noticed that the bottom of the bag had a strange shape imprinted there. It took him a moment to realize it was toes. A foot then.

"Wait!" The two boys froze for only a moment.

"We've got more oranges to deliver." George spoke gruffly. "You don't want to make us late, do you?"

"Dump out your bag." The guard ordered. The two looked at each other.

"You want us to spoil all these lovely oranges so you can 'ave a look-see in our bags? We ain't 'iding nothing." Fred said in a very tough voice. "Our boss will have our 'eads for this one."

"Dump out your bag." The guard repeated and they both knew they'd have to think of something. But before Fred could come up with anything, George tackled the guard. His mouth dropped open. There was no way _George_, a skinny teenage boy could take on a member of the guard. Fred also had to deal with the sudden extra weight.

"Go!" George yelled at his brother and Fred just stood there, stooping a bit with the weight of her and the oranges in the sack. Fred couldn't just leave George. That wasn't part of the plan and had never been the part of any of their plans. Any plans that involved them splitting up were well timed so that they were reunited minutes later. The guard rolled over onto George and George kept hitting for all he was worth. "Go Fred! Get her out of here!"

"No!" Fred knew that George's was trying to be the distraction, trying to get Fred and her out of there.

"You have to!" George got hit in the face and Fred shut his eyes, the sight of his brother getting hurt causing him pain. "I'll be right there!" Fred gave him one last look and saw the pleading look in George's face before he was hit again and knew.

_For her, for our family…there's some things you'll do anything for. _

Fred could barely get the bag around the corner as he went along but he did. He opened it and took her out. She was barely conscious but Fred got her to get in the position so he could pick her up and piggyback her to the attic.

As they went along, the last time he had seen George kept replaying in his head. He went along and felt like he would have to quit and run back any moment. He couldn't stand the idea that they might get away and George would be there, stuck there, with the guard.

Her arms that were draped of his shoulders, suddenly tightened, and he knew that turning back now wasn't an option. George had done it so they could save her. He had given himself up like that for her.

_Why did you ask me to walk away from you? _

_ "No! I'm staying here! I'm not leaving!" _

_ You wouldn't leave me…not that night…why did I leave you now?_

And though each step he took felt as though it would tear his heart out of his chest, he kept going. He tried to look back at her but it was impossible to do.

"When we get back…" His voice was thick as he could feel tears wanting to come up as he thought of George getting beaten. "When we get back, we'll have some breakfast. No oranges though…that'll be nice, won't it? George never really liked oranges. We both like apples better…" And he could barely stand it anymore as he went on. "You like apples too, don't you? And we'll tell you what we did…the plan…it was supposed to work out but sometimes things go wrong."

_"That's how much I love you."_

_ "'Cause the most important thing is to laugh." _

_ Without you…without you…_

"I can't laugh." Fred whispered to himself but no one heard him.

-

She had some food and water and now she was feeling a lot better, though still weak. She was sitting up, against the wall, and saw Fred, who was standing, looking out the window.

"He still hasn't come back." Fred said out loud, even though they both knew it. It was dark out. All day had been a waiting game that didn't look like it was ever going to end. He turned to look at her. "What if he doesn't come back?"

"He will." She knew that he wouldn't be comforted by anything less than George's presence.

"How do you know?" Fred turned back to look out the window.

"I…" _I don't. _"I know he will because you two…you're like two halves that make a whole. Without George you're incomplete and without you he's incomplete. He'll find a way back, no matter what." She said slowly.

"Thanks." Fred turned back and gave her a weak smile. "Thanks…" The window opened behind him and Fred whipped around. In came George, with bruises, and a white and red face that showed he had been crying. Fred instantly threw his arms around George and the force nearly knocked George right back out the window.

George shut his eyes and hugged Fred back so tightly that it looked painful. She knew it was their moment together and didn't say anything. It warmed her heart to see them together again. To think that something really awful might have happened to them just because they tried to save her…she wouldn't have been able to bear that.

It seemed like they would stay that way forever, in that one happy moment. But happy moments all come at a price. What they didn't know was the price that George had paid.

-

To Be Continued

-


	4. Part the Fourth

One last installment to this particular story. I'm sure you're all wondering, "What happened to George!" But you have to read to find out.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or its characters.

Warnings: Implied sexual abuse and mild swearing.

-

Doppelganger

Part the Fourth

-

When they did let go of each other, Fred and George looked at each other for a long time before either one of them spoke.

"How did you get away?" Fred asked, his voice heavy with guilty. He should have gone back; he would have too, if it hadn't been for her. The whole plan involved getting her out of there. He had no ill will towards her, but he just wished there was a way he could have done both.

George didn't answer him right away; he just looked at Fred with this vague, somewhat scared look, like Fred would just melt away as soon as he spoke. But inside, George was reliving what happened.

_The guard had taken him inside the house, had him tied up to a chair. George kept trying to think of an escape plan. Maybe he could slip out of his ropes and get away. The guard was in the room the whole time, playing a card game with himself. _

_ "You'll be leaving tomorrow." The guard told him as he flicked a card out onto the table. "Shipment of criminals goes out to the prisons tomorrow. I had a guard relieve me so I can sit here and watch you. You're a wily one; I'm not leaving you alone." _

_ George couldn't think of anything as he sat there. There was no way to get away when the guard was in the room the whole time. He could wait until the guard fell asleep or something but how did he know he himself wouldn't fall asleep before then? It started to get late in the day, the shadows in the windows changed. It was getting dark. _

_ "Please…" George wished he had his hat and his scarf but both had come off in the fistfight. "Don't send me off to prison. I've seen the errors of my ways, honest. Let me go." _

_ "Nothing doing." The guard kept right at his card game. _

_ "Let me go." George said more desperately. "Come on, I'll do anything. Just let me go." The guard stopped flipping cards over and looked over at the red-haired teenage boy. He got up and took hold of George's face, looking at him. _

_ "Did you just say anything?" The guard asked and George felt a terrible sense of foreboding. _

_ "Anything." George repeated, but feeling like it was a bad idea to repeat it. The guard definitely had something in mind, but he didn't know what. The guard took a step back and his hands went to his belt where he took out his knife. George held his breath as the guard walked around the chair and untied his ropes. _

_ "On your knees boy." The guard ordered and George went down on his knees. The guard went around so that he was right in front of George, who looked away. There was a little metal sound as the guard undid his belt and George glanced back to see the guard's pants drop. "Now, you'll do exactly what I say and if you do, you can leave." _

_ "Open your mouth."_

"How are you?" George walked around Fred who stared at him, clearly not understanding why George hadn't answered his question. She looked up at George and gave him a smile.

"I'm fine." She told him. "I feel much better. I'm sorry about what happened—"

"It's not your fault." George dropped down to a half crouching position next to her. "No harm done, right?"

_"Open your mouth."_

His stomach roiled and he felt sure he was going to throw up. He grimaced and tried to make the feeling go away. But there he was, in the room with the two people he loved most. Two people who never…wouldn't have ever…tears sprang to his eyes again.

"What's wrong George?" She asked, her voice full of concern. She reached out a hand to touch his arm but as soon as it made contact, he jerked away. She looked surprised and then quickly looked away.

_Of course, he blames me for this. That he and Fred were separated. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…_

_ "Please remember…it's important for you to know that it isn't safe to wander away from here like that." _

"Nothing, you touched one of my bruises." George lied quickly. He swallowed hard, trying to force his voice into a normal tone. "I'm fine. No big deal, just a fistfight, right?"

"How did you get away?" Fred asked again, George looked away from him. Fred tried to pretend that it didn't hurt. George was keeping something from him. Why? George had never kept something from him before. Never. They knew everything about each other…why would he have a secret?

_It's because I left you? Don't you trust me? Please say something…let me know…_

_ Or do you not want her to know? _

"I'm really tired." George declared. "I'm going to go to bed."

"Don't you want something to eat first?" Fred questioned.

"No, I'm not hungry." George turned his back on them and started to get under the blanket that he and Fred shared. Fred and she looked at each other for a moment but she didn't seem to have anymore answers than him.

They called it a night for now and Fred got under the blanket next to George but George made no move to curl up with him and Fred, feeling confused, and for the first time in his entire life, lonely, had to fall asleep next to him. George was turned away from Fred and was silently crying himself to sleep.

_I want to put my arms around you again…but you're just so beautiful Fred…and now we aren't alike…because I'm not beautiful like you. _

-

Later that night, Fred found himself waking up. At first, he wasn't quite sure what had woken him up but then he realized what it was. Someone was crying. Was it her? Why was she crying? A nightmare?

But he looked over to where she was sleeping and saw that she was sound asleep. With a start, it dawned on him that it was _George _who was crying. George wouldn't be crying…

Fred sat up and looked over George's shoulder and saw that he was indeed crying, little gasping cries that were very quiet but not silent like they had been earlier. Fred had never seen George cry, not once. He had seen tears well up in George's eyes when George had hurt himself when they were younger, but other than that, he had never seen George really and truly cry.

"George…" Fred murmured and his hand touched George's arm. He felt his brother tense up immediately.

"Don't." George said, squeezing his eyes shut. "Don't." Fred felt a wave of pain go through him. George didn't want him to touch him. George didn't want him near him.

_"I love you more than I'll ever love anybody." _

"I'm...I'm sorry." Fred felt something pricking at his eyelids. "I'm sorry George. I know you hate me now…I shouldn't have left, I should have come back. We could have thought of something. You would never leave me and I left you all by yourself…" And something rolled down his cheek and trickled to his lips. It was a tear, salty and strange.

George turned and sat up, throwing himself on Fred. Fred fell over, nearly hitting his head on the floor. George was holding so tightly onto his twin brother that Fred could do nothing but try to hold onto him, just as desperately.

"I don't hate you; I'll never hate you…" George sobbed into Fred's chest. "Never." He lifted his head to look into Fred's eyes and Fred saw the tears in his eyes and once again wanted nothing more than for George to tell him _why_, to let Fred share his burden. "I wanted you to leave…there's nothing you could have done…don't stop loving me…"

"What?" Fred blinked at that last comment. "George, why would you say that?" His hands went and moved George's head up that their faces were inches apart. "Why would I stop loving you? I'm the one who left."

"I can't…" George tried to look away but Fred's hands kept him facing towards his brother.

"George, what happened to you?" Fred asked sharply, knowing that somehow, something so awful had happened to his brother that it was causing him to cry like this. "Just tell me."

"I can't." Fred finally let him move his face away. George buried it into Fred's shoulder. Fred wrapped him up in an embrace. George couldn't tell him. He didn't want Fred to share his pain. Whatever it was. It hurt him but he knew that his pain wasn't important now. George's was. George needed comfort.

So Fred stroked George's hair and began to hum the song to George, the song their mother used to sing to them. The crying quieted down and soon, George was asleep, and Fred dropped off to, even under the unbearable weight that something happened to George that wouldn't have happened if he hadn't left him by himself.

-

Over the next few days, she got better and better. She cleaned the attic up and was usually seen with her hair tied up, cleaning something with whatever rags she could find around the house. She did it because she felt she owed them but she told them she did it because she liked to. Part of her did enjoy the task of cleaning the grime off things, but not so much that she worked as hard as she did.

George, though acting cheerfully and ready to jump up and start reciting some story with his brother, seemed a half-step behind everything. There was something wrong with him, anyone could see that. Fred didn't seem as cheerful either, but that was because he wanted to know what George wasn't telling him.

They went through the days in motions but every night, after she fell asleep, Fred was usually woken by George crying, though a few times, he would wake up and be sick over the stairs outside. Fred would be there to rock him back to sleep and hum the song to him but Fred felt a horrible sadness when he thought that George didn't trust him. His voice had been so pleading when he had cried that first night.

_"Don't stop loving me…"_

But a week later, when Fred woke up, George was onto him so tightly; he could barely breath and crying heavily. Fred couldn't even move his arms to hug his twin brother back.

"George please…_please _tell me what happened." Fred pleaded with his brother and George let go of him and sat up, looking away from him. "I trust you. Completely. And I'll always love you. Please tell me."

There was silence for a few moments but then George asked for Fred to hold his hand and Fred did. George began his story, holding Fred's hand as though it was holding him back from a ledge that he would fall from if Fred ever let him go. As the story progressed, Fred began gripping back in the same manner.

"Then he said…'Open your mouth.'" George's voice was thick with shame. "He…he put his…" George found it hard to go on. Fred knew what happened and had closed his eyes so that George wouldn't see that he was starting to cry.

"I know." Fred finally spoke after a long moment of trying to make it sound like he wasn't crying. "I know." He found himself wrapping his arms around his brother, without even thinking, and his brother sinking into his embrace. "But that doesn't change anything. You're still my twin. You're still my brother. Do you know what she said when we were waiting for you? She said we're two halves that make up a whole. Without you I'm incomplete…that's true. If you're not here, I don't know what to do…I still love you."

"How can you still love me?" George asked hoarsely. "How can you love me as much?"

Fred tipped his brother's chin up towards his own face. Looking into those eyes, the same eyes he saw in the mirror or caught sight of in puddles of water. The same nose. The same freckles. The same mouth. And though he couldn't explain why, other than because the overwhelming urge overcame him, he pushed his lips against his brother's.

His brother put a hand on the back of his brother's head and pushed his weight against Fred so that they fell over together. When George broke the kiss, they were both looking into each other's eyes.

"I really love you." Fred told him and George lay down so that his brother could hold onto him. "Because you're my other half." George trembled a little but Fred began to hum the song that they had always heard their mother singing again.

But this time, as he hummed, someone stepped in with the words.

"Here you are, my loved one,

Sleep now for the day is done,

The darkness is coming now,

The sun is taking its final bow,

While you dream, I'll be there,

While you dream, I'll be there

While you dream, I'll be there,

I'll be there for you."

The two boys rolled over and looked up to see her sitting up, looking away from them, the last note dying on her lips. She turned towards them.

"I know that song." She had that wistful look on her face, as though remembering something so long ago and yet so happy that it hurt, but it was a good kind of hurt. "My mother used to sing that song to us when we were little."

"She did?" Fred and George both sat up. "That's the song we can remember our mother singing to us…"

"Maybe we are brothers and sister." She looked at them for a moment. "My name is Ginny Weasley."

"We don't know our last name." George shook his head apologetically. "We had brothers though…"

"I have brothers too." Ginny leaned in eagerly. "Bill's the oldest, Charlie's next oldest and then Percy. And Ron, he's a year older than me."

"Bill." Fred repeated the name, a mental image of an older boy with red-hair coming to mind, telling them gently that times were hard, that they shouldn't be worried and that mom and dad didn't hate each other. "Charlie." A red-haired boy comically filling his cheeks with air and dipping his head under water.

"Percy." George repeated that name and thought of a red-haired boy who looked self-important and separated the twins as a punishment even though he wasn't that much older himself.

"I don't remember a Ron though, do you?" Fred turned towards his twin.

"No…" George shook his head. Then he thought of something making a squalling noise and his mother carrying around a bundle of blankets. "Wait…he would have been a baby…"

"That means…you really _are_ my brothers." Ginny looked amazed and the happiest they had ever seen her. "You're Weasleys. But…there's one thing strange. What happened to you two? Why are you here?"

The twins related their stories to her, telling her about how the boys' mother, _their _mother, had sent them off and how they never arrived to where they were supposed to go.

"But she gave us these." Fred did something he had never done before, other then when only George was around, and pulled out the thin piece of wood. Ginny's eyes went to the size of saucers as George did the same. Then she had a moment of struggle before pulling out her own.

"It all makes sense now!" Ginny looked excited. "All these years…sometimes, mum would look sad and I'd ask her why but she always said that I shouldn't worry. But one time…once she said it was because she had made a horrible mistake and that she would regret it as long as she lived…" Ginny bit her lip. "But she was talking about you two! 'Cause after that, Percy told me to stop asking her questions all the time and that something bad happened that I wouldn't understand. It was because she gave you two up! She probably sent you to live with someone but you didn't get there because of the slave trader…"

"She really does regret it?" George felt something he couldn't describe right then. It was a bit of joy, that their mother had never forgotten them, that she was sad.

_But I'll make her laugh…_

_ I'll make her laugh and make her happy, Fred and I will, and Ginny too…_

"We could go home." Fred smiled to himself. "We'll get some food together and pack up and go home…"

"I don't know the way." Ginny shook her head. "But the village's name…I know that. We could ask! Or find a map, or something!" She stood up excitedly.

"Our mum and our brothers…" George looked at Fred. "Our other brothers."

"Don't forget dad." Ginny beamed. "He's wonderful too."

"We're going home!" Fred grabbed Ginny's hands and whirled her around in a circle. "A real home!"

"Our family!" George was let into the dancing little circle they started. "We finally found them…we'll be together…again." The shadows that had been lurking behind George's eyes seemed to be gone for the moment; they were all caught up in the happiness of that moment.

They danced in a circle until they all fell over laughing, dizzy and excited. Because laughter and love were the best things in the world and they had both.

-

The Guard came down very hard on any criminals they caught. Petty theft was no big deal to them. Street urchins were bound to rear their ugly heads in large cities like Fal, but the Guard for the most part, ignored them.

However, the shop keepers complained of two frequent trouble makers who were running amok. The Guard felt a need to catch them after so many complaints but wasting man power on two dine-and-dashers was a very low priority. That was until one of the Guard happened to see the two in action. He followed them very discretely to an abandoned house. That was their hideout.

"Trespassing." He told his captain. "We can get them." His captain only shrugged and waved him on with it. A team of the Guard was sent out to this abandoned house to catch the two perpetrators who were never seen without hats and scarves. The Guard quietly went in the front, ground floor door.

On the fourth floor, Fred and George were taking off their hats and scarves.

"We'll leave tomorrow." Fred decided. "We've got all the stuff we can carry."

"Tomorrow, at daybreak." Ginny agreed. "When they open the gates. They never question anybody who's _leaving_."

That was when the fourth floor door burst open and in spilled eight members of the Guard. Fred, George, and Ginny backed up towards the window. The leader of the team reeled back in surprise when he focused on the two boys.

"Twins!" He hesitated and so did the rest of the members of the Guard. His eyes went Ginny. "And you. Red hair…you're probably that runaway slave we've been looking for."

"Sir, I don't know about attacking…you know…_twins_." One of the men said in a low tone. "I heard that they've got all sorts of unnatural powers…"

"Stand your ground." The leader said to him, turning to look at the trembling member of the Guard. "They're only—"

A bucket was flung at the Guard, the water bucket that Fred and George got filled up every day at one of the public water pumps. Ginny had thrown it so that George could throw the window open and scramble out of it, Fred right behind him. When the captain saw what they were doing, all the men darted forward but Ginny was just going through and by the time they got to the window, she pulled her foot through, barely missing the leader's grab for it. They were going down the stairs and the leader was determined to catch them so he led his men back down through the house and out the front door, going around.

Fred had grabbed George's hand and George had grabbed Ginny's and they were running through the backstreets of Fal, hoping they could lose the Guard. There was a yell and someone yelled back, and they knew it was the Guard getting the reinforcements they needed.

They weren't far behind them and when they were about to turn onto a side street, they saw that the Guard was already coming up that side street and so they had to go on, but they were cut off from yet another direction. Soon, they were running straight towards the wall.

"It's going to be a dead end!" George yelled.

"Just keep going!" Fred yelled back over his shoulder. Ginny was far too breathless to attempt to say anything. They were running towards the wall, the Guard not far behind them and they wondered if they were really going to make it.

_We have to…we have a family waiting for us…a home…_

_ They can't…they can't take that away now…_

Fred saw that the wall had steps leading up it and he turned his course so that the two people running behind him turned to and then they were running up the steps. Up the wall. Maybe they could find someway out if they did. The Guard was coming up behind them and then when he looked back to see where he was running, Fred saw that another section of the Guard was running towards them from the other direction. They were trapped.

He stopped and George and Ginny stopped too, knocking into him, but not knocking him over.

The three looked all around to see that they were trapped. In front of them, were green fields, endless until you saw those distant mountains to the north. Freedom. That was what it looked like, untamed blue sky and green fields.

If only they could have made it. They were all grasping hands still and Ginny was holding the thin piece of wood in her hand. They took a step up onto the ledge, the Guard on either sides stopped, wondering what they were going to do.

The three looked at each other. The walls were too high, far too high to jump from.

"Let's do it." Ginny had a determined look to her. Because freedom and family were better than capture, even if the price seemed too high. "We can make it."

"Cheers." George said weakly and Fred closed his eyes.

_If only someone could help us. We need help. We need help. _

_ We need to get away from the Guards. But there's only one way out…and isn't it just better this way? Who says we won't make it? We need to make it. We need to._

They all looked at each other one last time, Ginny gripping the only thing left she had that her mother had given her, Fred and George both thinking of all the good things they could possibly remember.

_Need._

They jumped, closing their eyes, and Fred heard what was an unmistakably cracking noise. He was sure they landed but before he could open eyes to make sure, he blacked out.

_It's funny; I thought the landing would hurt more…_

-

The two boys opened their eyes. The ceiling was far above their head. Maybe they were in jail. But the bed they were lying on was so unbelievably soft that it didn't seem possible for a jail. The blanket on top of them was thick and warm. They looked at each other.

The turned their heads to see an old man sitting there. He had long white hair under a pointed purple hat and a white beard that trailed down to his waist. There was something about his twinkling light blue eyes that were behind a pair of half-moon glasses, that made them know he was somebody important.

"So, you're awake?" Fred and George sat up together and knew this wasn't a jail house. It was a huge bedroom full of paintings and portraits and sculptures and all sorts of things. The bed was huge and had a canopy. Best of all, they saw that Ginny was sleeping next to them. George nudged her and she opened her eyes, looking around in amazement. How did they get here? "Not many at your age can work such a powerful spell without training. It's no wonder that you've been asleep for two days."

"What?" George ventured the question. "Who are you?"

"Forgive me, I'm Albus Dumbledore." The old man bowed his head with a small delighted smile. The name struck the twin boys as terribly familiar.

_"Remember, find Albus Dumbledore." _

"You're!" George and Fred both chorused as they finally remembered.

"What?" Ginny looked from the twins to the old man. "Who are you?"

"Albus Dumbledore." Dumbledore repeated his name. "I'm delighted to meet you three. I'm not really sure of the specifics but you three worked a spell together, a spell that I'm still amazed at, and have ended up here, in my home."

"We were being chased by the Guard!" Fred put in immediately. "We had to jump, we were in the city of Fal…"

"You're not going to turn us in, are you?" George looked at Dumbledore warily.

"I think the Guard would want to arrest me far more than you." Dumbledore smiled to himself. "No, I'm not going to turn you in. I don't think you realize quite where you are. My home is located in the mountains."

"The Northern Mountains?" Ginny looked puzzled. "But how…how did we get here?"

"The term is 'Apparated'." Dumbledore explained patiently. "It's a spell that allows the traveler to get instantly from one place to another."

"A spell? Like…like _magic_?" Fred blurted out.

"Yes, magic Mr. Weasley." Dumbledore told him. "You three are all magic users. These wands were found on you when you suddenly appeared in my front hallway."

"Wait, how do you know our names?" George went for the easier concept to tackle. The idea that they could all use magic was still looming over him. He knew it was illegal for anyone to be able to use magic, the old hermit had told him so.

"Because there's someone here who is far more delighted to see you three than I am." Dumbledore's eyes lit up as he turned towards the large doors. "Molly, they're awake." He said loudly.

A woman burst through the doors and as she did, Fred and George knew immediately who she was, even though they had not seen her for so long. That face, that round, kind, gentle face. It was as though not a single day had past.

"Mum!" Ginny cried out happily and all three scrambled off the bed and Ginny was hugging her mom but Fred and George hung back for a second. The woman, their mother, had tears in her eyes as she buried her face in Ginny's hair.

"Oh Ginny, you don't know…I thought I'd never see you again…" Their mother was holding her tightly before releasing her. Then she looked up and saw Fred and George. She held out her arms towards them too and the two boys fell into their mother's embrace. "It's you, it's really you." They all had tears in their eyes and they were rocking a bit as their mother somehow managed to get all three of them in a hug. "My boys, my beautiful twin boys…"

"Mum…" Fred knew it was her; every part of her was the same. The voice, the smell, everything. "Mum…"

"It's alright now." George said, but really for himself more than anyone. "It's going to be alright now."

"I thought you were both dead." She shook her head. "I never forgave myself for what happened. But then Dumbledore said one of his men had seen you. And I kept hoping…that you would somehow find your way back…and now we're all together again. Your father will be so happy."

"Don't forget about us." Said a voice whose tone suggested a smile tugging at one's lips. The twins and Ginny looked up to see a young man, with bright red hair. "I hope you remember your brother Bill."

"Bill!" Fred and George said happily. Then two more boys came in as well. "And Charlie and Percy!"

Fred and George glanced at each other, with those identical smiles, and knew that this moment was too much for words. That even through all the bad, something good, something absolutely wonderful had come out of it. And as they held onto each other's hands, they knew, that through all the years the most important thing had been that they had never let go.

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The End

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Omigod, I totally started crying at the end. I mean, it was a good sort of crying though. Happy crying. Sappy? I don't know. Maybe. But I still liked it. Anyways, this was only the first story and the next story will be called _Heretic_ but I won't tell you whose story that will be. Also, you might have gone, "Hey! What about Ron!" You'll have to wait to find out about that one. And once again, happy birthday onee-chan! I hope you liked it!


End file.
